


Don't Let It Hold You Back

by cumberbabeswillrise



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumberbabeswillrise/pseuds/cumberbabeswillrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine having to help drunken Dean into bed and being afraid of him. Oneshot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let It Hold You Back

Dean stumbles in the front door of the bunker. You hear him slowly make his way down the stairs. You close your eyes, you were the only one there tonight, and you didn't want to deal with drunk Dean.

“Hey,” he smiles, his breath smells like whiskey.

“Dean...” you sigh. This was the third time this week. You'd dealt with this kind of stuff before with Conner, and you were terrified that you would have to deal with it with Dean as well, even though you weren't with him. It still scared you, to think that the liquor could turn him into a monster, like Conner.

“I'm just sayin' bye before bed.” His voice slurs and his eyes are barely open. He stumbles again, this time catching himself on you. He grabs your arms tightly to steady himself, and for a moment, you remember Conner. All rage and blue eyes, gripping your arms and shaking you as he throws you into the wall.

“Dean, stop.” You lightly pull him off of you. “Let's get you to bed.” You put his arm around your shoulders, trying to support his weight with your smaller frame.

“You're really pretty, you know that, (Y/N)?” Dean smiles next to your ear, his whiskey breath wrapping around and forcing its way into your nose.

“Thanks, Dean.” You kick yourself. Conner did this right before he forced you to do things you didn't want to do. You sit Dean on his bed, helping him support himself.

“(Y/N)?” He asks as you head toward the door. You turn. His head is hung, hands wringing in his lap. You move back to him, sitting on your knees in front of him.

“What is it, Dean?” You hand him the water bottle you left on his night stand the last time he was like this, but last time, he went straight to sleep.

“This job- it's hard, it's really hard. I need an outlet sometimes, and I guess this isn't the best one.” He points to himself. “I'm just...”

“Just what, Dean?” You scoot a little closer to him, resting a hand on his cheek. “You can tell me.”

He looks at you for a moment, his green eyes flicking from eye to eye, then mouth. He licks his lips, his eyes alight. He sets his own hand on top of yours, closing his eyes exhaling. Suddenly, he reaches out, pulls your face to his, and kisses you.

Though he is drunk, his kissing ability is hardly impaired. He kisses you hard, pulling you closer and closer. For a second, you lose yourself, but then you realize, Dean is drunk. Putting a hand on his chest, you push away. At first, Dean pulls you back in, but you protest, and he lets you go.

“You deserve the world, (Y/N),” he says, the lays himself back on the bed. He lets out a deep exhale, and you know he is asleep.

You sit there still on you knees, eyes wide. What the hell just happened? Your arms ached from where Dean had grabbed you earlier. You slide up your sleeve, and see that it is already bruised, purple and dark red.

_Shit,_ you think,  _I can't let myself get caught up in this again._ You don't think Dean would be abusive like Conner, but you really couldn't take your chances. For a second, you remember yelling, Conner's face in yours. A hard push, and you were falling, down the stairs. Your head hit the bottom with a  _crack_ and you passed out.

You remember waking up in the ditch, covered in plastic covering. A police officer stood over you, screaming for an ambulance. An angel named Castiel had healed you in the hospital, and took you away. 

You had always been a hunter, it ran in your family, but now your family was dead. Dean and Sam and Cas were going to protect you, but sometimes it was difficult to think that, especially when you were used to the abuse.

  
  


“(Y/N)?” Dean knocks on your door the next morning, his hair disheveled and his shirt wrinkled. You had slept in a tank top, so you couldn't hide the deep hand-shaped bruises on your arms. “Oh, god. Did I?” He closes his eyes, breathing heavily. 

“Shit!” he roars, sending his fist through the nearest wall. You stand there, staring. “I am so sorry. I didn't hit you, did I? I grabbed you though,” he fingers the bruises, tears forming in his eyes. “I have no excuses.”

You keep staring. No excuses? No, I was drunk, I love you's? No saying that it was your fault? 

“(Y/N)? Are you okay? I'm so, so sorry. I wanted to talk to you about what I did, but I forgot that I grabbed you.” His lip trembles. He looks so angry at himself.

“Yeah, I'm fine. And, the kiss? Forget about it. It's fine, Dean. Not bad, really.” You grab the nearest sweater and throw it around your shoulders. 

“It was over the line. I let myself go, and I shouldn't have put you in that situation. I shouldn't have let you know that I felt that way about you, but I meant it when I said you deserve the best.” He rubs his eyes and pats his hand over the spot he had just punched. “I'll fix this.”

He leaves and you are left standing by yourself, happy that he loves you, but terrified at the same time. Your heart pounds, and pulling the sweater tighter against your chest, you run down the hall.

“Dean!” You call. He turns, confused. Jumping, you wrap your legs around him and kiss him hard. “I guess that I shouldn't have let you know how I felt about you either.”

 


End file.
